NICK RABIG TURNS UP
"Guess who's here," said Billy a few mornings later, as he came up to
Bart and Frank. "Give you three guesses."
"That's generous," remarked Frank. "Well, I'll bite. Who is it? The
Kaiser?"
"Come off."
"The Crown Prince?"
"Quit your kidding."
"I know," said Bart. "Hindenburg."
"Blathering boobs, both of you," pronounced Billy. "But with your
limited intellects one ought to be patient. I'll give you one more
chance. Think of the fellow you like the least in all the world."
"Nick Rabig!" the others exclaimed in one breath.
"Right," grinned Billy. "I knew that would get you. Nick seems to be
as popular with you as poison ivy at a church picnic."
"What cat dragged it in?" groaned Bart.
"Our unlucky day," growled Frank. "I knew something would happen when
I picked up the wrong shoe this morning."
"But how did he get back?" asked Bart, his curiosity overcoming his
repugnance.
"Came in on his own feet," replied Billy. "Escaped, so he says, after
performing prodigies of valor. To hear Nick talk you'd think he'd
wiped out half the German army."
His comrades laughed.
"I suppose we ought to kill the fatted calf," said Frank sarcastically.
"Where's the calf?" asked Bart. "Unless we take Billy here," he added
as an afterthought.
He dodged the pass that Billy made at him, and just then Fred Anderson,
another young soldier, strolled up.
"Heard the news?" he inquired.
"About Nick Rabig? Yes," replied Frank. "Billy's just been telling us
about it."
"Bad news travels fast," growled Bart.
"Nick doesn't seem to cut much ice with you fellows," commented Fred.
"I never thought much of him myself, but you seem to have it in for him
especially. I suppose it's because he tried to play that dirty trick
on Frank in the boxing bout."
"No, it isn't that," replied Frank. "I got satisfaction for that then
and there, and I don't hold grudges. It's something altogether outside
of personal matters. Have you heard any details about how Nick made
his escape?"
"Only a bit here and there," answered Fred. "I suppose it will all
come out later on. But it seems that he has a lot of information about
the German plans and he's now at headquarters being questioned by the
officers."
Frank turned the conversation into other channels, because although he
had the gravest reasons for believing Rabig to be a traitor, he did not
want to do the fellow an injustice or voice his suspicions until he was
able to confirm them by absolute proof.
Fred passed on after a few minutes and the boys looked at each other.
"Did you hear what Fred said about Nick's 'important information'?"
asked Frank.
"Important misinformation," growled Bart.
"Bunk," declared Billy.
"Of course, Nick has an advantage in understanding German," said Frank
cautiously, "and a loyal fellow in his situation might have picked up
something that would be of advantage to our people, though it isn't
likely, for the Germans guard their secrets pretty well."
"What's the use of talking?" burst out Bart. "We fellows are all onto
Rabig. We know at this minute that he'd like nothing better than to
see the United States licked by Germany. Don't we know that he let
that German prisoner escape? Don't you know that he was talking in the
woods at night with that German spy that you shot? I tell you
straight, Frank, that if Rabig escaped it was because the Germans let
him escape. If he has information, it is because the Germans filled
him up with just the kind of information they wanted our officers to
believe."
"I think Bart's right," remarked Billy. "It'll be the best day this
regiment ever saw when Rabig's stood up before a firing squad."
"In my heart I believe the same," assented Frank. "But the tantalizing
thing is that we haven't a bit of legal proof. Rabig had that cut on
his hand to explain the escape of the prisoner. He seemed to be
sleeping in his bunk that night I got back from the woods. So far he
has an alibi for everything. We can't prove that he let himself be
captured. We can't prove that the Germans let him escape. As for the
information he claims to have, our suspicions are based only on what we
know of the man's character."
"That legal stuff doesn't make a hit with me," growled Bart. "Some day
I'll break loose and take it out of him myself. My fingers itch every
time I see him. I'd hoped I'd never have to see him again."
"You're doomed to be disappointed, then," grinned Billy, "for here he
comes now."
They looked in the direction he indicated and saw Rabig coming along
the company street.
His step was swaggering and he looked immensely satisfied with himself.
Bart's fist clenched.
"Nothing doing, Bart," Frank counseled in a low tone. "Hold your
horses. I know just how you feel. I had to lick him once and maybe
you'll have your turn. But not now. I want to find out whether he
knows anything about Tom."
"All right," said Bart, "but it comes hard."
Nick saw them standing there, and for a fraction of a second seemed to
be of two minds about keeping on. He hated them all cordially and he
had no doubt of the feeling with which they regarded him. But his
hesitation was only momentary, and he came on with just a little
additional swagger in his gait.
He would have passed without stopping but Frank spoke to him pleasantly
enough.
"Hello, Nick!" he said. "See you've got back."
"That's plain enough to see," responded Nick surlily.
"Papa's little sunshine," murmured Billy under his breath.
"Huns seem to have fed you pretty well," remarked Frank.
Rabig only grunted and looked at Frank suspiciously.
"Did you see anything of Tom Bradford over there?" asked Frank.
A look of surprise came into Rabig's little eyes.
"No," he answered. "Was he captured?"
"We're afraid so," answered Frank.
"I didn't see him," declared Rabig. "Perhaps he's killed," he added,
almost smacking his lips with satisfaction.
They longed to kick him, but restrained themselves, and Rabig passed on.
"Isn't he a sweet specimen?" asked Bart in disgust, as he looked at
Rabig's receding figure.
"Did you see how his eyes lighted up when he heard that Tom was gone?"
put in Billy. "The only thing that would give him more satisfaction
would be to have the same thing happen to Frank."
"I guess he hates us all alike," said Frank. "Down in his heart he
knows that we believe him to be a traitor. His only comfort is that we
haven't been able to catch him with the goods. But that will come in
time. A little more rope and he can be depended on to hang himself.
But that can wait. What I'm more interested in is that he didn't have
any news of Tom."
"Perhaps he was lying," suggested Bart. "He may have seen Tom over
there, but wouldn't give us the satisfaction of telling us."
"No, I don't think it was that," commented Billy. "I was watching him
closely while Frank was talking to him, and I could see that he was
really surprised as well as pleased to learn that Tom was gone."
"But even if he didn't see him, that doesn't prove that Tom isn't
there," suggested Bart. "He may have been captured by some other
division. Besides, to tell the truth, I don't believe that Rabig was
in a prison camp at all. Did you notice how fat and well fed he
looked? I'll bet that he's been living high on the best the Huns could
give him."
"He didn't look like most escaped prisoners for a fact," assented
Frank. "We'll let his failure to see Tom go for what it's worth. But
there's one thing that's been growing in my mind right along. We're
sure that Tom isn't dead, for the burial parties cleared up the field
and didn't find him. We know too that he isn't on the hospital list.
I got a squint at that no later than yesterday, and Tom's name isn't
there. That seems to cut out everything except capture by the Huns,
doesn't it?"
"What else is there?" asked Bart gloomily.
"Just one thing," replied Frank, "and that is that Tom has got away
from the Huns but hasn't yet got back to us. I know what that boy is.
He isn't the kind to settle down and tell himself that he's a prisoner
and that's all there is to it. There isn't a bone in his head, and
he's been busy every minute thinking up some plan to get away. You
know what the boches are doing now. They're getting so short of men
that they're using prisoners right behind the lines in cutting brush
and hauling guns and that sort of thing. Of course it's dead against
all the rules of war, but a little thing like that doesn't bother the
Germans. Now if that's going on there are lots of chances to escape
that the prisoners wouldn't have if they were all huddled together in a
prison camp under the rifles of their guards. Get me? Picture Tom out
in the thick woods going meekly ahead doing as he is told without
making a break for freedom. Not on your life! Some way or other he'll
slip off, and some fine day you'll see the old scout come walking in
and asking us if breakfast's ready."
"It sounds good," said Bart unconvinced, "but I'm afraid it's a dream."
"All guess work," chimed in Billy. "We don't know anything."
"No," admitted Frank, "but we know Tom."